Olive, Again

I am not a fan of sequels, but I loved Olive Kitteridge book one and I had to take a look at book two. And, oh Olive. I'm not letting out any secrets when I tell you that Olive forges on into deep old age, forthright, brusque, oblivious, stomping through the underbrush, crushing anything she sees that appears to be in need of trimming, and continually becoming bewildered by her reception on this path of destruction by others.

Olive is a real person, completely human, deeply flawed, yet also deeply loving, and she lives among other real people, equally human, deeply flawed, and also deeply loving. On she goes, stomp, stomp, stomp, crush, crush, crush, everything she sees. And it always comes back to her, stomping on her in return, crushing her in return.

A story of the pain of life. A story of life's occasional redemptions.